


Every Scar is a Story

by brodylover



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Other, Past Abuse, Post-Coital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: prompt: "So, will you tell me the REAL story of this particular scar?" "Only if you kiss it" (Anders)contact me on tumblr (whatsanapocalae) if you have any prompts for me! I'll be accepting them until 12/03





	

It had been, oh, it had been amazing, the few moments they’d had, away from the rest, to themselves. Hawke loved the feeling of Anders against them, the soft touch of his hands as they searched every inch of Hawke’s body, memorizing it. They knew there was a bad reason that he needed to do such a thing, but that was for another time. Hawke loved the way he would wrap his arm around their waist and turn, roll them so he was on top. Poor fool thought he was in change, didn’t even realize that Hawke was the one making it even possible for them to move. Hawke even loved how bent Anders’ cock was, curved to the right, the way it hit their most sensitive spots if they were in just the right position. The way it felt, hot and thick, against their hip, when it wasn’t inside of them, the way it bounced as he rode them, trying desperately not to touch as the head leaked.

 

Hawke’s bed had been the home to many a rambunctious night, many new partners and old ones, different one night stands, long drawn out relationships that should have been cut short. Anders though, Anders was different. They didn’t know if it was Justice, making him feel so electric, so much more than anyone else. It could have been the Grey Warden in him as well, the intense stamina, the ability for him to come over and over again.

 

And then, after hours, when Hawke had made him come from fingers and toys and members (sometimes a stranger that had been invited in to satiate the mage), Hawke loved laying beside him. He was more at peace here than anywhere else they’d ever seen. The stress was gone from his shoulders, a lax smile playing at his lips. He would trail his eyes and mouth against Hawke’s flesh, going from fingers up to their mouth, kiss deep and long, as if trying to devour them.

 

Hawke would move his hair behind his ear and he would let them. They could trace over every flaw that wasn’t even that anymore, just a new addition to the whole. When the sun was out and Anders had had enough time to go out in it, they could count the freckles that dotted his cheeks and shoulders and back.

 

They would talk and there would be less defense about what was said. Anders was always quick to hide the truth about himself, usually behind some self deprecating humor. Here though, he was a lot more lax, easier to talk to, and he would laugh off hurts and the past but he would at least admit to them.

 

They traced his arm, the hair on it rising in response to the gentle touch. Here they could do that. At the Gallows, a light touch like that would have Justice force his way to the forefront, jump and swing magic at whoever was closest. There were scars on his arm, digging through the hairs, crossing over the veins and lean muscle. They were nothing compared to Hawke’s own scars, nothing compared to the ones that dug into his back, the ones that still hurt him if he stretched wrong.

 

There was a long one, dark purple, that went from his elbow and curved around his arm, diagonally, until it crossed with others on the soft underside, half way to his wrist. He had said it was from a nail, one of the escape attempts from the circle. Hawke didn’t know if they should believe him or not. A lot of the things he’d told them in those first few days were less than true.

 

“So, will you tell me the REAL story of this particular scar?” they asked, turning onto their stomach. It was cold outside, the sky threatening snow, but they weren’t under the blankets. It was warm enough from the fire and their recent activity that they could just lounge out on the bed.

 

“Only if you kiss it,” Anders laughed.

 

They did. From the beginning of it to the end, and then they punctuated it by pulling forward and kissing him, soft but deep, stopping only to kiss them again, a smaller shorter kiss. “Is that how to get answers out of you?”

 

“Love, that’s how you get anything out of me,” he laughed again.

 

“Then I’ll have to use it more often.”

 

Anders rolled away from them, onto his back, and looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t avoid eye contact, just looked up as he remembered.

 

“It was so long ago. It wasn’t my first, but close to my first time trying to get out of the circle. I snuck into the templar armory, thought I could get out in their armor. I could, just not then. I didn’t make it too steps in before I was caught.” He was far away, recalling it. He bit his lip just hard enough to make it swell, enough to make Hawke want to kiss the hurt away from it. “The templar, I don’t remember her name, must have been almost double my age. She packed quite a punch too. I didn’t want to leave with her, didn’t want her to get me in trouble, so I fought her. She smited me but I was persistent. She had to beat me physically, and at one point she slammed me into a wall. My elbow got caught on a nail and ripped through it.”

 

“So you weren’t fibbing when you said that.”

 

“You wound me Hawke!” Anders turned to them with his hand on his heart, fake hurt in his features, “Why would I ever make a fib?”

 

They kissed him again, just on the side of his mouth. “Let me guess, you were horribly punished for your crimes?”

 

“Actually no.” he shrugged again, “Apparently being beaten to the point that your face is swollen beyond recognition is enough of a punishment for failing so drastically.” He smiled though, the hurt so far in the past that it couldn’t be felt here. Here was safe. Here was a place to be whole. “Obviously that meant it didn’t stick.”

 

Hawke rolled against him, pushed their naked shoulder against his. “I’m glad it didn’t.”

 

“You’re glad the mage underground exists? That I’m a free mage? That I’m causing trouble all over Kirkwall?” he chuckled, “I wonder what Fenris would of that.”

 

“Don’t tell him. Please. I’d never hear the end of it.”

 

“I wonder what nonsense he’d admit to after being kissed?”

 

“You wouldn’t dare!”

 

“I would! You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t dare!”


End file.
